Keeping Challenges in Hand

I had the humble privilege to sit with a friend today as she prepared to go into surgery. Stories were shared with another mutual friend, laughter rolled out into the hallway then, just before the 'Transport Person' was ready to roll her out to Surgery Waiting, we joined hands in prayer. According to the Evangelical Catechism (Question 101), "Prayer is the conversation of the heart with God . . . ." and it is at times such as these that the true nature of our heart is revealed, both before God and in the hearing of those with whom we pray.

Odd, the kinds of things that swirl through my mind in the midst of ministry and this morning was no different. While holding hands in prayer, while speaking the words of my heart into the ears of God, it felt like talking with an old friend and, then and there, it occurred to me that, "This is what it means to keep our daily challenges in hand." You hold hands with a friend and pray.

In taking the hand of one with whom you share the journey, bowing your head, and letting your heart speak/listen, you are taking the hand of God in the midst of every moment. When a prayer is uttered, whether whispered in the tones of the heart that only God can hear or spoken through a microphone that a congregation might join along, God is in the clasped hand, the communicative spirit, and the shared joys and concerns.

Does God need us to pray to know what it is that is in our hearts? I sincerely doubt it, but I do fully believe that we need to pray that we might listen to what our heart has to say to God, that the lips of our spirit might be joined to the ear of God's Spirit in intimate conversation, that our soul might flower before the Son in adoration and praise. We are the ones in need of taking God's hand in love, for God has already extended God's Hand towards us through the presence of Christ among us. In regularly exercising our faith in such a personal manner, we open the door to deepened understanding, fullness in relationship, and comfort and healing in times of distress. My prayer this morning was not so much about my relationship with God, but about affording the heart of my friend to rest in the embrace of the One who is already holding her, a reminder of what already is . . . before ever we knew it might be.

"Conversation of the heart with God . . . ." I sat with an old Friend today and shared the journey with a new friend, keeping the challenges in Hand, allowing our hearts to speak their truth before the One who is Truth, and resting in the Healing that flows throughout every age. What more might a person ask to begin their day so well, so completely?

Only in clasping hands together in prayer are we able to keep our challenges in hand.

Your servant in Christ,

Pastor Don

Church Sign of the Week:

WE WILL PAY FOR WHAT

WE NEED BUT, WE DO NOT

NEED BILLION $ OIL PROFITS

Aughhhhh! Frost!

"But, it can't frost! I just planted all my tomatoes, cauliflower and pepper plants! There are carrot, spinach, lettuce and radish plants all just above the ground - and potatoes just put in the ground! It can't frost!" is what I thought this morning when one of the faith family walked in the door asking if I had heard the latest forecast. Then I wondered if asking that it not frost was an acceptable petition to 'slip into the prayers' during the prayers of the day in worship . . . hmmmm. It is amazing how much more personal the weather becomes when it is your ox that is getting gored, your garden that is in danger, your fields that are at risk.

Yet, isn't that exactly how God looks at each one of us . . . as God's own personal planting for which God is personally, even Divinely, responsible? Isn't that what Jesus' presence among us is all about, God's personal petition on our behalf, fending the heat of the gates of hell away from where we are living and growing? Isn't that what Jesus' prayer from the Gospel of John recalls as Jesus prays that we may be one, even as God in Jesus are one? That in all kinds of weather, there is nothing which can freeze us out or burn us down? Isn't that what the empty tomb proclaims?

People have often chided me about making personal requests of God for particular kinds of weather for whatever it is that is going on in their lives, i.e., rain in a dry time, sunshine for a wedding, warmth at night to encourage plant growth, etc . . . to which my pat response has always been, "I'm in sales, not management. The weather is up to the 'Boss'." Yet, today, I am really wondering about how to broach the topic of frost on tender plants with the 'Boss'. Well, Jesus said, "Whatever you ask in my name the Father will give you", so I'm asking that God's wisdom and wonder prevail . . . and I am covering our plants just in case that wisdom and wonder includes frost. The weather is, after all, God's gift of ongoing creation and, as much as we want to believe we are in charge, every so often, God's creation reminds us that God isn't done with what God is doing . . . and our grand plans are humbled in prayer before God's throne.

"Maybe if I remind God that the farmers have a lot of wheat getting really tall and that frost at this time would be catastrophic, not only to the farmers, but also to thousands, even millions of hungry people all over the world . . . . ." How far will I go in bargaining for my own need? How much will I promise? How much can I beg? Oh, for pity's sake . . .

God has always shown how far God will go to save our very lives, that should be enough. Let faith and common sense prevail: trust . . . . . and cover the plants which are tender.

Your servant in Christ,

Pastor Don

Age is Relative & Love is Ageless

It has been said that, 'Age is relative.' It has also been said that, 'If you are talking to a relative, never mention age.'

Personally, I prefer the old adage, 'Growing old is inevitable, but growing up is optional,' for that is truly how I see myself: Slowly growing up, even though I am quickly growing old. The good husband that I am, I will not presume to speak for my lovely wife, whose birthday is today. She has become my age and, together, we are a century old, but I would never, ever tell her age. What sane man would?

Yet, in my eyes, her age is relative, for our love for each other is ageless. When I look at Nancy, I still see her standing shyly in the upper hallway of the New Addition of the Grade School waiting, while a mutual friend came up to me and asked, "That girl over there really likes you. Do you like her?" I looked at her, standing there in her ankle length blue coat (it was Winter of 1970), and told our friend, "Oh, yeah." And the rest is history. She was in 7th Grade and I was in 8th. Little did we know . . . .

Some might say, 'If we knew then, what we know now, things might have been different,' but I don't think so. We don't always see eye-to-eye, but we always have an eye for each other. We may not agree on every issue, but we always agree on the issue of each other. We struggle sometimes with the direction God is calling us to go, but we never struggle with the notion that God has called us to each other and, with each other, we will go wherever we are called.

Our diverse and self-indulgent American culture sends out a myriad of mixed signals about how men and women are to relate to each other - and what they can expect from each other. God's culture comes to us through Christ and is a singular message to both women and men, a message of mutual respect, care, and compassion for the other. True love in relationship is a gift above all gifts, for in the heart of love, in the unselfishness of complete sharing, in the uninhibited winding of all that two might share in becoming one, there is the presence of God. Such gifts do not age, at least as we think of age. They mature, get better, more flavorful, more delectable.

That does not mean there won't be bumps in the road, but life is a choice: You can choose either to go through the potholes of life with someone who will accuse you of aiming for them just to make your life difficult or you choose to go through the potholes of life with someone who will laugh with you as you are jumbled around in the car. Your choice.

I choose God's gift in my life, that ageless, loving woman who can laugh with me and makes me laugh through the ride of our lives in this world. Nancy, may your every birthday be happy, may your every happiness be strengthened in faith, and may your faith always be full in the One from whom all blessings flow. In love, let's grow up slowly together, shall we?

Your servant in Christ,

Pastor Don

They Broke Ground in the Face of the Rain

My oldest brother, Larry, called me at the office this morning to tell me they had begun Spring work in the fields. Dad was discing and Larry was putting the duals on another tractor to begin field cultivating. Killing back the weed-grown fields, long standing before tillage due to the heavy rains, is of first priority, even with high fuel costs. Farmers are going to have an interesting and challenging year and, for the Wagner farm, it formally begins today.

Ironically, they are breaking ground in the face of a rapidly moving weather front that is bringing in what the forecasters are calling 'heavy rain'. Still, the work has to be started for the weeds are only going to grow bigger and thicker in the days ahead. Clutch out, throttle forward, hydraulics down, it is time to open the earth. If we wait for a perfect day, we may not ever begin.

There is a lesson there for all of us: If we allow ourselves to become paralyzed by waiting for the perfect moment to 'make that witness', to 'share that Christian care', or 'love as we are loved', we may never do anything other than to contemplate our own navel, grousing all the while that we never get a chance to do anything. Sometimes, you have to pull the tractor and disc out of the shed knowing that you might get wet doing what needs to be done. Sometimes, you have to enter the field at the East end, while looking towards the West end where the storm clouds are gathering. Isn't that what Jesus did as He entered Jerusalem on Palm Sunday? As He entered the Temple and tore down the tables of the money changers?

"In season and out of season . . ." we are called to live this life of faith, to walk with Christ, to enter the fields of God's own choosing, that God's will be done.

I just looked out the windows of my office and the ground is wet. I wonder how far they got in the fields today? They may not have gotten done, but they are farther than if they had waited for the perfect day to begin.

May you begin in the fields which lie before you in the Spirit God gives.

Your servant in Christ,

Pastor Don

Reflections on Confirmation

“And suddenly from heaven there came a sound like the rush of a violent wind, and it filled the entire house where they were sitting. Divided tongues, as of fire, appeared among them, and tongue rested on each of them. All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other languages, as the Spirit gave them ability.” Acts 2.2-4, NRSV

Sunday, May 11 is Pentecost Sunday, the fiftieth day after Easter, the day we celebrate the birthing of the Church in the power and presence of God’s Holy Spirit. The term ‘Pentecost’ is derived from the Greek name for the Jewish Feast of Weeks at the close of the grain harvest fifty days after Passover and Unleavened Bread. In the early church, Pentecost at first designated the whole period of fifty days from Easter; only later did it refer particularly to the fiftieth day, which became a feast in its own right in the last 4th and early 5th centuries.
In the faith family of St. Paul United Church of Christ, Pentecost Sunday is the day we celebrate the Rite of Confirmation in the lives of those who have completed a two-year period of study and have indicated a desire to affirm for themselves, before God and the gathered congregation, their sacramental vows of Baptism. This practice places our faith family in harmony with the practice of the early Church of bringing folks ready to receive the Sacrament of Baptism to the Vigil of Pentecost, baptizing them, then dressing them in white as they moved from the baptismal waters, which originated the English term, ‘Whitsunday’. The young folks who are affirming the vows of their Baptism on Sunday, May 11, 2008 are affirming more than their own personal spiritual journey in Christ, they are taking their place with sisters and brothers of the faith throughout every generation whose worship of God and openness to God’s Holy Spirit is the font from which innumerable blessings will flow. They are not only accepting the joy of shared Table fellowship, they are taking on the responsibility for Christian witness and stewardship in the midst of the world community. Confirmation on Pentecost Sunday is a prophetic statement concerning the coming Kingdom of God and our place as Christ’s disciples in articulating that vision in thought, word and deed. It is not a graduation ceremony.

If there is a pain in my heart regarding ministry, a pain that cannot be explained or simply fixed, it is the pain of those who regard Confirmation as a graduation and simply stop attending and participating in the Body of Christ until next they have need of it . . . or someone in the family ‘guilts’ them into making a guest appearance somewhere along the way. In my mind, it is one of the holy mysteries whose answers have lacked continuity throughout the ages. A myriad of jokes affirm that understanding, like the one, “How do you keep squirrels out of the bell tower of the church? Confirm them and they will only come around once or twice a year.”

Some have suggested that worship is not relevant to youth. Others have suggested that the local church just does not have enough youth programming to keep them here. Others point to the vast number of ‘outside interests’ with which the church daily and weekly competes, not the least of which is club sports programs. Some say that the increasing number of youth who have weekend jobs is making a difference. Others remind me that the church has abdicated its own calling regarding the holiness of Sabbath time together in worship and family by one of two ways: scheduling meetings on the very day there should be no business conducted; and/or in mute silence, and sometimes in active collaboration, granting legitimacy to others who schedule their activities on Sunday knowing that it will force people to make a choice about where they spend their time. Others, wizened by our culture’s fast paced lifestyle, acknowledge that, ‘Sunday is the only day I have left for myself. I can sleep late, get caught up on my ‘to-do list’, and spend a little time with my family.’

All of these explanations do little to find a balm in Gilead, for they are more about rationalizing behaviors at the expense of someone else than in accepting responsibility for the very vows being made in Baptism and/or Confirmation. “Do you promise . . . .” in the vows means nothing if the one answering, “I do, with the help of God” never really intends to call upon the help of God in living into their promises. The Church is a community experience, but faith is a personal choice. Faith well-lived incorporates both.

I have heard it said that, “Going to church no more makes you a Christian, than standing in a garage makes you a car”, and, given the current religious atmosphere of fundamental extremism and dogmatic lunacy, one might be moved to reject everything religious, rather than consider anything at all. Yet, it is precisely for a time such as this that Christ came for all of God’s people and stood in the midst of our conflicts and questions. Jesus is the answer to what is right, true and holy in God’s sight, regardless of the age, and it is to Jesus that we all must turn.

As God is community in the Trinity of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit so, too, are we called to be birthed into and live out of that same community, exercising the gifts of the Spirit as each has ability, standing in solidarity with those who have no voice, responding in compassion with those who lives are in shambles, extending healing to the wounded, a cup of mercy to the thirsty, and the food of salvation to those who are hungry. The community of Christ’s Body, the Church, is not perfect, but it is being perfected by the One whose sacrifice upon the cross becomes the atonement for the personal choices we make which drive the nails only more deeply into His hands and feet. The stone rolled away from the tomb is sight and sound of God’s resounding answer of, “Life!” to those who would shut away Christ’s faithfulness in the harshness of death imposing choices.

To complain that the Church isn’t relevant, or that there isn’t enough youth programming, or that ‘outside interests’ are the issue, or that jobs take people away, or that the Church is its own worst enemy in keeping people involved, or that Sundays have become personal days . . . . are all complaints about God: God, you can’t keep my attention. God, you don’t deserve my time. God, I have better things to do. Such statements are also personal indictments before God: I will not be involved with You, God, unless it is on my terms. I will not work with You, God, unless I can see some sort of personal benefit. I will not worship You, God, unless I can personally approve of everything the Church says.

Christ does not call us to a conditional faith, nor does He offer His life for our half-hearted, self-centered response.

Absolutely, the Church in every age must seek to express and live the faith in ways which are contemporary with life’s experiences. As it was in Christ’s own ministry, so it is with the ministry of the Church today: The Christian life must be authentic and contiguous, for the crowds are ready and willing to point out the flaws and irregularities, and a few will even crucify that which is perfect. So, we continue our walk with Christ, and people continue to Confirm their Baptismal vows, and the Church will reflect the attitudes and values of those who attend and participate. No, you do not have to attend church to be a Christian but, if you truly believe the Church is the Body of Christ, why would you not want to be fully a part of it?

Pray for this year’s Confirmands, even as you pray for the Confirmation classes throughout every age, that all of us might live as we pray: in Jesus’ name.

Your servant in Christ,

Pastor Don

You Smell Like the Farm

There isn't much that can really make my day like someone who loves me telling me, "You smell like the farm!" That is exactly what Nancy did last night as I trudged up the stairs, long after the lights had been turned out, and trying quietly to enter our room. "You smell like the farm!" wasn't an insult, it was a commentary on the events of the day and a reminiscence of how nearly every day used to mark its presence in my life when I was a dairy farmer.

It was in the way I smelled . . . and last night, as I walked up the stairs, I smelled of raw gasoline and grease. I had been repairing and readying the rototiller for working up the garden, which included the necessity of tearing apart, cleaning and rebuilding the carburetor. When all was complete, I fired up the old Briggs and Stratton on the Springfield rototiller and, much to the dismay of our nearby neighbors at 10:00 at night, I tried it out on a corner of the garden. It worked! And, it left me smelling of all that I had been doing. Ah, what a smell!

In stopping by the farm briefly today, between a regional pastor's meeting and hospital calls, I stepped out of the car only to be frozen in mid-stride by the smell of Springtime on the farm. That smell includes cattle, liberal doses of corn silage and alfalfa hay, manure spots over the driveway where yesterday the manure spreader had passed several times, grease and diesel fuel undertones from the shop area, all intimately wound in the spacious lifting of red bud and magnolia trees in bloom. Ah, the smell of the farm in Springtime! If Ralph Lauren would ever deign to bottle it, maybe marketing it for the more romantic ones among us as, 'Springtime in the Cow Barn', he would probably sell more of it than all the other 'toilet waters' combined. Maybe it is the redneck in me, but there is something about that combination, especially in this time of the year, that just makes me feel good about life.

These are the smells of a new chapter being turned in God's creation. These are the smells of stewardship and machinery mechanics blending their time together. These are the smells of livestock running and kicking up their heels in the pasture, relishing these first moments of freedom after a long Winter of being cooped up. These are the smells of God's work in the birthing of the buds in the trees, in the lively response from the waters of the pond, and the distant echoing of robins in the field. These are the smells of life, God's life opened up and poured out for all people to drink in and be satisfied. It can't be smelled through the closed windows of a car or soaked in through the tightly shut doors of our living.

You have to step out of your comfort zone and take it in, gift that it is, and savor it. It is about getting your hands dirty while cleansing your heart in hard work. It is about sweating over the details while celebrating the bigger picture. It is about joining hands with God in the earthiness of who we really are while delving deeply into the soul of God in tending to the earth as you pray God tends to you.

To me, it is about smelling like the farm. There is really no greater compliment, especially in times like these. It roots me. It restores me. It gives me strength for another day.

I slept well last night in the knowledge that the farm was not far away, its' smell a part of me, my soul a part of it. It is God's tender blessing for those who farm, for those who work God's fields, and my heart is full, pondering that anyone could think that I could be of such a distinctive order and nature. May you be so blessed.

Your servant in Christ,

Pastor Don

Different Kinds of the Same Thing

Well, the gardening began in earnest this morning. I took a couple of hours off and spaded a 12 by 12 section of the garden, raked it down and then went to the local hardware store to purchase seeds. Do you have any idea how many different kinds of lettuce and radishes there are? I just wanted to sow a couple of rows of each to get started, but there I stood, at the Mt. Rushmore of seed selections, trying to make up my mind.

Black Seeded Simpson lettuce I knew I wanted, but there were so many others that I knew Nancy loved in her salads. I stood there for a few moments, maybe even a few minutes, overloaded with choices and not sure which would be best. Even now, as I sit and write this article I am struggling to remember which ones ended up 'being the best for us' . . . and whether or not they were, they are sown now. The same with radishes. I wanted red radishes and white radishes (I plant what I remember loving to eat when I am at the table. So much for a discerning selection.), and what I was faced with choosing was between about a dozen different types of each. When it came time to select spinach and carrot seeds, I closed my eyes and grabbed the seed, ran to the counter, paid for my purchases and headed out the door. It was far more work selecting what I wanted to sow than it was preparing the ground. But, it got me to thinking.

If we were all the same it wouldn't be much fun would it? Life would be pretty mundane and there would be no choices of what to do with whom, because we would all do about the same thing, the same way, with the same emphasis. God must have foreseen this when God began the work of creation and, if you look around at all the different kinds of people there are in the world, you get the idea God has quite an imagination about how different all of God's people are meant to be. Not only are different ethnicity's set up to succeed in different climates, much like seeds, but different genetic traits enable the different peoples to perennially thrive and improve from one generation to the next, again, much like the plant world around us. It is an awesome idea to ponder!

So, are the people that are hybrids or the ones which are raised in inappropriate environments considered the 'annuals' of the species? Are certain kinds of people just are not designed to thrive in different kinds of places, even though they may be found there? Those are the kinds of questions I can ponder on for long periods of time, not that I have come to any sort of resolution regarding the different kinds of peoples, but just ruminating on the possibilities brings me to a greater awe of the God who is still at work in creation. It also makes me wonder about me . . . and where in the world I really belong.

For now, I have planted three different kinds of lettuce, two different kinds of radishes, a row of spinach, and a row of carrots. There are four different kinds of tomatoes, two different kinds of peppers, cauliflower, string beans, and sweet corn waiting in the wings for the rest of the garden to be tilled, and potatoes and sweet potatoes are yet to come. Look around at the plantings of God and dare to dwell in the wonder of what variety you are and for what reason you are birthed as you are. God is as much in you and in what you are capable of producing as God is in everyone else, just as they are.

God's world in never mundane, so hang on to your britches and leap for joy! God's planting in you is for a reason and there is a purpose for where you are: You are a specific variety God intended to happen. Now the universe waits in breathless anticipation to celebrate what will be produced in you. Thanks be to God for God's gardens!

Your servant in Christ,

Pastor Don

Sign for the Week:

LOOKING FOR SOMETHING

DEEPER THAN DOGMA?

YOU ARE WELCOME HERE!

Planning A Garden

There is a strip of ground, 12' X 50', on the South side of our home in which I am planning to plant a garden. I've been thinking about doing this for quite a while, even 'planted a few seeds' of rationalization with my wife last Fall, pointing out how much better fresh vegetables are for our diet and how susceptible the world food supply was to sabotage. Okay, maybe that last one was a little over the top, but let me ask you, 'What would you eat if pre-packaged foods were suddenly pulled from the shelves?'

My Mom and Dad always gardened and canned. Their parents before them gardened and canned. Nancy and I gardened, canned and froze a variety of vegetables and fruits throughout our years together, but in recent times it has just become so much easier to go to the store and buy what we need than to grow what we want, which includes having to weed, tend, harvest, clean, process and store what is grown. So, we have been going to the store . . . and paying someone else to do for us what we chose not to do for ourselves. I can justify our decisions in a thousand ways, but none of them has the taste of that first tomato off the vine, or that first batch of green beans picked from the bushes, or the first lettuce cut from the patch. Ummmmm. Fresh vegetables grown in your own garden are hard to beat for taste, but they are also require an investment of your time and talent which, I think, is partially responsible for why they taste so good.

Kind of like the Church. Oh, you can shop around and get what you want when you want it. You can show up for a Baptism, drop back in for Confirmation, swing through on your Wedding Day, and roll in and out when you are buried: no muss, no fuss. All services provided, no sweat off your brow, no skin off your teeth. Everything is packaged, with some kindly Pastor offering you a prayer or two and reminding you how nice it was to see you, and you slipping him or her a 'little something to show your appreciation' for services you wanted, but didn't ever have the time or energy to support. You might even drop in occasionally to sort of test the waters and measure the competence of the Pastor, ensuring that when you do need something from God the Church will be prepared to meet your every expectation, and other folks in the pews will be somewhat acquainted with your face, hopefully able to say something nice about your consumer mentality and shrewd way of getting through life without ever having to bear the cost and joy of discipleship like all of those other chumps who waste a couple of hours a week of their lives, ' . . . doing for others what they should be doing for themselves.' You get what you need, store it in the freezer or cupboard and your time is yours to do with as you want. Church need not get in the way of personal needs and priorities in a rapidly changing culture.

But . . . Jesus says, "Take up your cross and follow me." Live the faith, don't just consume it. Plant some seeds along the way, tend to the growth with a gardeners eye, weed when necessary, harvest when ready, share with neighbors who don't have enough, and, when the growing season is complete, be sure that you and others have enough to tide yourselves through until the next growing season is upon you. Should you not live to see the next growing season, your life's example should have already set in motion those who come after you that they not be lost in the milieu of the culture and know what to do and when to do it. Kind of like Jesus' disciples . . . and the members of the Church today who believe that their walk with Jesus in the Church is their way of giving back to God in appreciation for God's abundant grace in their lives, not just a place from which to pick what they want when they want it.

So, I'm planting a garden this year. Lettuce, radishes, tomatoes, corn, green beans, peppers, spinach, and maybe even a few other disciples. I'll put in the time and the work and trust to God the growth and production. Hand in hand we'll work together and heart in heart I trust we'll come to the abundant harvest God envisions for all. Sounds like work, so I had better get started while the sun is shining and the ground is ready. You too?

Your servant in Christ,

Pastor Don

All Shook Up

An earthquake shook our region this morning at 5:37 a.m. I awoke to the sound of its pending arrival before ever feeling the first tremor. Like the low rumbling of an empty tractor trailer going through a series of potholes, but with an increasing decibel level that matched the nearness of the approaching tremor, the ripples of the shifting earth and rock enveloped our home long seconds after I first woke to the sound of its imminence. Then, perhaps 4 or 5 seconds of shaking gave way to the recessional sounds of the quake as it continued its sinewy course of movement away from the epicenter, some 100 miles from our home.

Nancy and I both fairly leapt up from our slumber to move towards a doorway, only to be met by our sons lights flipping on in their rooms and them doing the same. It was only seconds of shaking, but the responses were remarkable. "Was that an earthquake?" Ched asked. Ray's response made me smile, "Why do you think we are all standing in the doorways? That was spooky." As the sound of rumbling subsided in the distance, Nancy and I sat down on the bed and flipped on the television to see how long before the local stations had something to say about our shared experience. It took only a few minutes and then held the central focus for hours thereafter. Nancy went ahead and got ready for work as I continued to watch the coverage. Life got back to 'normal' quickly, with only our memories to resurrect the experience and relive its wonder.

It got me to thinking though, which for that early in the morning could have been a hazardous task, but after the smoke of my brain engaging cleared, it occurred to me that this was probably one of the first, and certainly one of the most powerful, earthquakes the boys have ever experienced in their relatively short lives. For folks in California and other earthquake prone regions of the world, what we felt in a 5.2 or 5.3 tremor would have been little more than a morning yawner in their lives, yet for Southern Illinois, it was an event. And, more than that, it was an event that prompted particular reactions in our home: we all quickly moved towards doorways.

Nancy and I both have memories of fairly strong earthquakes in our lives and shared those as we took a few moments to settle down after this morning's rude awakening. But, for our sons, this was a fairly new revelation in their lives . . . and they reacted with practiced ease: They got out of bed, without our prompting, and moved into the doorways of their rooms and stood there as the earthquake moved beyond our hearing. Where did they learn this? How did they know the appropriate response? What was it that reminded them of what to do, even while being suddenly and rudely awakened at an early hour of the morning?

I do believe that God's angels among us often work overtime and that our personal guardian angels sometimes have to fly remarkably fast to keep up with our penchant to step into the deepest 'doo' at the most inappropriate of times . . . and I am eternally grateful no one was hurt and that property damage was at a minimum in the region. But, I also believe we learn lessons along the way that register in our brains and are held there until called upon in stressful situations, even unexpected stressful situations. In school, nearly every one of us in the 'New Madrid Fault' area have been regularly 'practiced' in what to do when an earthquake strikes. Have we practiced those things in our home? No. Yet, our schools have practiced, and continue to take seriously, the correct things to do to save your life when the foundations of the earth shakes around your ears. Go to doorways, if you are in a building, or get out if you can. This morning our family took action based on prior learnings and, even if the tremor wasn't large enough to do major damage, we inadvertantly found out that we have learned more than we really knew we understood and practiced it in a real life situation that may, somewhere down the road, save our lives when the earthquake is much more severe. God help us all.

Sitting with a cup of coffee and the newspapers which I read every morning, I found myself praying for those people who have never practiced what to do when the earth shakes under them, who have no earthly idea of how to save either their life or their soul when challenged. I prayed for the people who do not believe in prayer. I prayed for the people who have never stood in the midst of a faith community in worship, who do not know the strength and peace of having a faith community stand with them in trial. I prayed for the people who never practice what the Teacher teaches, opting to stay at their desks and get more work done while the rest of the class files out of the building to stand clear of all that potentially could bury you in rubble. I prayed for those who have no memory of Life-giving directions, of knowing what to do even in their sleep and knowing where to go even when they cannot see. I prayed for those who hear the rumbling of the earth shifting as it rapidly comes towards them, yet fail to comprehend that it will inevitably include them in the changes and they will only be left wondering what it was that hit them. I prayed for those who have no doorways to protect them, no beds under which to hide, no safe open area towards which to flee, and no hope of protection that might afford them security in the face of destruction.

I prayed for you and me . . . and I prayed for us all. This earthquake serves as a reminder that we are here on this journey as guests, even if only for a short time. There are things far greater going on in God's creation than we can fathom or even begin to imagine, yet, God does not leave us in our ignorance. God chooses to teach us, both, Life-giving ways of living and survival techniques for when the world threatens to overwhelm us. Not every tremor kills, not every quake destroys, but even in the midst of those which do, God is with us and God has the final word about our lives . . . as the earth quakes and the stone is rolled away from Jesus' tomb.

Listen to the lessons Christ teaches and practice in life what you are shown in class. Who knows when any of us will be suddenly awakened by the violence of life rumbling through our bedroom and we are faced with practicing what we know will save us or be left sitting in wonderment as the walls fall in around us. I pray we all know what to do when our moment comes.

Your servant in Christ,

Pastor Don

Cleaning Off My Desk

There are any number of things in life that, if choices were allowed, I would rather endure than having to clean off my desk. I keep projects 'rolling' across my desk and the ample counter space in my office. I believe such an organizational ethic aids in remembering that God's work is never done, just ongoing in all our lives. Still, others walk into my office and wonder out loud, 'How do you keep it all sorted and current?' I tell them not to mess with my piles, then clear off a space on the nearby table, have them sit down, pour them a cup of coffee, and ask what it was which brought them into my office in the first place. Oddly enough, there has never been a serious conversation held in my office which has been stymied by my organizational methods, at least none of which I am aware.

All of which makes me wonder: For whom do we keep the desk tops of our lives clean? For ourselves? For 'company'? To meet the expectations of powers-that-be that periodically make surprise visits? To appease our own 'A-type' personalities? To cleanse or prevent anal-retentive tendencies of project procrastination? Why do we do it?

Please don't get me wrong, I understand that there are those people who are innately gifted in having a place for everything and keeping everything in its place. They are a gift to our world and because of them much is accomplished in an orderly fashion that people like myself could only imagine. Yet, I believe God is fully in the midst of both extremes, with neither having advantage or disadvantage. Were that not true, creation would not continue to be birthed in such an amazing and ordered fashion, nor would Christ have come to redeem our wayward humanity from the messiness of life in these earthly tents. God does not condemn the messiness of life but, rather, calls us to live faithfully in the midst of the piles of projects around us.

Feeding the hungry is, both, about good planning in planting a crop and a willingness to walk in the difficulties of hunger with the one in need of food. Water for the thirsty seldom arrives in single-serving individual bottles ready to hand out to all who are in line but, rather, more often requires standing in the muck and mud of the shoreline, scooping water into whatever container one might have, then transporting it to where it is needed which is often miles away. Care for the ones who are sick is rarely a sterilized moment in time but, as Jesus reminds the members of the world community, most often requires us to touch, to hold, to support, and to pray, and to risk being touched. Most often, when being welcomed as a stranger, the ones with whom I am most likely to have an immediate and genuine relationship are the ones who welcome me into the cluttered rarified atmosphere of their family room or kitchen, the places 'life occurs', as opposed to those places where 'life is put on display'.

So, as I sort through the things on my desk, file a few projects needing closure and realign those projects now taking priority, I offer my thanks to God for sitting with me in my office, amongst the messiness of ministry and taking my life into God's own hands through Christ. When life on this earth is complete and the days of my living are judged, I pray not too many points are lost for lack of polish. I pray, too, that I might be found just acceptable enough to sit at God's kitchen Table and hear the family stories told in a Holy new way . . . like Jesus did with His disciples in the upper room. May it be equally profound for those who prefer the Living Room, as well.

Your servant in Christ,

Pastor Don

Linear Living in a Multi-Dimensional World

On the road making pastoral calls today, I took in the astounding beauty of a sun-filled April day. The temperature is in the 70's and the trees are putting on their buds and early leaves. Hen-bit, the purple flowers (weeds) which appear in barren fields in early Spring, is making an entrance worthy of a Diva and the wildflowers are pushing through the roadsides with their color and radiance.

Along the way, I drove through a creek bottom which afforded me a view of multiple hills and valleys along the route of the water. It is a visage that is rarely seen in that particular area of the country because of the dense foliage normally found in that vicinity yet, today, maybe because of the high winds, maybe because I was paying more attention than usual, you could see the texture, the topography, the dimensions of the earth as the waters coursed through the cleavage of the hills. Somewhere in those moments of wonderment it occurred to me that many, if not most, people live very linear lives in a multi-dimensional world.

The landscape around us does not change dramatically through the years. The hills are hills, the valleys are valleys, the plains are plains, and the rivers and streams are rivers and streams. Yet, for most, the world around us, our context, is lived, even driven through, in a very linear fashion. The world is where we are. The world is what we experience. The world is what we see. The world is what we remember. The world is what we believe. The world is how we order it. Yet, before us and after us, often in spite of us, the real world, God's world, is so much more. So much more.

God's world has ridges, crooks, and corners. God's world has peaks which are higher than we can imagine and deeper than we could survive seeing. God's world has colors Crayola has never been able to duplicate. God's world splashes barrenness with unexpected glory and brings forth life from those places regarded as forgotten. God's world has grays and hues of uncertainty. God's world has enough for all if we are willing to go far enough to find it. God's world is multi-dimensional and, still, God allows linear beings to dwell there. God's world is a paradox of competing truths and wildly spun visions of co-existence that is ours to experience, if ever we dare off the beaten path of linear behaviors.

'Purchase our vision of the world and be this . . .', 'Own our understanding of the world and you will do that . . .', and the list goes on and on. The politicians each hawk their linear party-line agendas, even as religious traditions parochialize linear behaviors in the pew and beyond the front door. Advertisement firms pound the reading and viewing public with linear thinking 'that sells', while home security firms drive home linear fear that motivates subscriptions.

Is it a wonder that, in the raw unexpected moment of multi-dimensional experience, the uncomplicated splendor leads to cataclysmic awe and worship?

Take a moment for a walk or a drive, sit at your window and look across the yard or the street at the wave of tree limbs in the breeze, shut your eyes and remember the laughter of soaring through space on the seat of a swing, or touch the soft cheek of a baby's face . . . and give thanks to God for dimensions of being our harried living barely acknowledges. Then spend a little more time there each day. Who knows? Maybe in the grace of walking through life with the eyes of Christ we will discover, with the women at the tomb that first Easter morning, why the linear laws of death no longer apply, as we ponder the multi-dimensional aspects of the stone rolled away.

Your servant in Christ,

Pastor Don

They Are Only 'Dogs' When They Are Not With You

This morning, as we tamped into place the last bit of soil for the grave of our son's yellow lab, Bogey, it occurred to me that, 'A dog is only a dog when they are not with you.' Any other mutt running around the neighborhood is a 'dog', but when they are with you they are uniquely personable, nameable, even lovable. Maybe that is what makes them 'Best Friends' with so many people, when they are with you they are absolutely, devotedly with you.

Bogey came into Matt's life as a gift from his wife, Bethany. Maybe the gift was more for their daughter, Cailin, than it was for Matt, but Bogey quickly became Matt's companion. Named for a golf score which indicates 'a stroke over par', Bogey has always been a stroke over par in personality. Highly excitable, overly energetic, wildly lovable, always curious about the world, willing to chase into oblivion anything she saw including rabbits and butterflies, with something of a Greyhound's willingness to run in her blood, and a penchant to go through any fence or boundary to get where she wanted to go, Bogey captured the 'little boy's imagination' of our grown son and romped with him through many an adventure.

Not unlike our own black Labrador, Licorice, next to whose grave Bogey now lays, Bogey did not want anything to do with gun fire or thunder, all the while lighting off fireworks of her own with her antics to run with the wind and gnaw on anything she could find. Fiercely loyal and affectionate, Bogey would slobber you with kisses one second and have you pumping your fist at her as she bounded out of her kennel and down the street the next. Yet, that is all part and parcel of having a best friend: You love them unconditionally in spite of their shortcomings, sometimes because of them. That is what Bogey did for Matt . . . and that is what Matt did for Bogey. Such friendships are two way blessings.

Over the years of being a farmer, I have learned there are words you just do not want to hear come from a veterinarian's mouth, like cancer, mass, tumors, spleen, anemic, treatable but fatal, and, the dreaded phrase, 'It's your choice', and Matt heard all of those words concerning Bogey. Most often, when those words become part of a conversation about an animal, there is little choice. Tears become the only response which can be given and time will not quickly ease the dread which becomes caught somewhere between the heart and the throat. They spent her last hours together as a family, best friends caring for one another as Bogey's running in this world slowed, then stopped.

It is a father's humble honor to stand graveside with his son as the memories find their meaning in a time and place when words cannot be spoken. As much as I wish I could take this pain from him, I know it is the natural part of sharing the journey with another, the risk of opening your heart completely to a friend. The alternative is not nearly as desirable. So, I stood with him this morning and Nancy and I will continue to stand with them all in the days to come.

In our hearts, we know that Bogey is running joyfully healthy in a beautiful meadow chasing rabbits with Licorice and, in our hearts, this gives some comfort. But, truth be told this night, there is something about the mind's eye picture of a little boy sitting with his best friend on the steps of their home that will just take some time to heal in the soul of this young man, our son, for . . . they are only dogs when they are not with you . . . and Bogey will be with him for a long, long time.

Kind of makes me appreciate, all the more, God's love for us all.

Your servant in Christ,

Pastor Don

Hard Times in the Fields

The equipment is ready. After months of down time through the Winter, after endless hours spent going over every disc blade, every field cultivator shovel, the bill hooks on the baler, all the sprayer nozzles and hoses, the sickle sections of the windrower, servicing the tractors, turning the points on the chisel plow, checking the planter and calibrating the monitoring equipment, stock-piling the necessary seeds and insecticides, making sure the combine is ready for wheat harvest which inevitably happens either on the heels of, or in the midst of, planting, and going over the trucks, trailers and wagons necessary to make the entire operation portable, nearly every farmer in the region is poised at the back door of their homes, waiting for the fields to dry and the work to begin in earnest. The refrain for this particular song, which is being sung quite frequently this year is, "Last year this time, we were already planting corn. This year nothing has been done yet."

Add to the angst the highest petroleum prices our country has ever seen, which in turn has created much higher fertilizer and anhydrous prices, pushing up per acre tillage costs, increasing the cost of seed being delivered, and quickly eating up any additional profitability recent grain prices might have provided, and what you have is a recipe for deep despair and disaster. The humbling thing to me, though, has always been the resiliency of the farmer in the face of all that would crush others.

Perhaps our nation's most current pure minority, farmers constitute approximately one percent of our population, yet feed the world. Farmers sow in hope and reap in reality. Farmers tend to the soil and are rewarded or punished by the weather. Farmers pray over their seed in planting and the sweat of their brow is the moisture which wills the growth. Farmers sell wholesale and buy retail. Farmers work hand-in-hand with the God of all creation, yet their livelihood is controlled and manipulated by strangers negotiating the Board of Trade. Farmers are incredibly communal in the care for the greater good of the vocation and the land, yet are pitted one-against-the-other by absentee landlords who care more for profitability than with stewardship. Still, in the midst of it all, farmers continue to plan, to work, to till, to plant, to cultivate, to mow, to listen, to watch, to harvest, and . . . perhaps most of all . . . to pray.

The higher free market economics builds the wall of improbability for making a life, the more likely it is that the farmer will effectively find a way, not only to scale the wall, but to articulate God's faithfulness in achieving success. Consequently, the better the farmer does in meeting the challenge, the more likely it is that a very hungry world will be fed and the American 'way of life' will be given hope for another day. The local family farm has more on the ball in continuing to exist than Donald Trump or Bill Gates could ever muster in all of the golden cities they could hope to build.

Sound romantic or idealistic? It isn't. There is nothing romantic or idealistic about paying 5$ or more for a 60 pound bale of alfalfa hay to feed a cow who will consume it in minutes, while the farmer prays she produces enough milk to pay for it and all of the other grain and dietary supplements necessary to make dairying viable. There is nothing romantic or idealistic about forward contracting and/or paying for fuels, fertilizers, herbicides, insecticides, seed, and equipment parts, months before the first furrow is opened in any field. There is nothing romantic or idealistic about standing at the back door of the house or next to the open shed door watching flood waters cover your land and the winds of tornadoes tear apart your dreams, while whispering a silent prayer that tomorrow will be better and another chance to farm will be yours.

Farming is a vocation, a calling, a sacred trust. Those who live to farm do not farm to live, they farm for life, your life and my life. Our faces are in their eyes as they kneel down next to a newly planted row of soybeans, scratching away the soil to reach the bean and visually confirm the depth and accuracy of the planting. Our children's faces are in their dreams at the end of a long Summer's day of work under the sweltering sun moving bales from wagon to shed. Our children's children's faces are in the planning they do each day, the details negotiated in each moment, as the stamp of this world's success or failure stands imminently ready to judge their work by standards their hearts just cannot understand or accept.

There are hard times in the fields today, but I am grateful that the fields of my future are in the hands of the ones called to farm and whose life is lived in an intimate partnership with God. I am grateful to God that the soul of a farmer is not measured by the number of acres they own or till, but by their capacity to participate faithfully in the sharing of all that is good, right, and holy of God's abundance. I am grateful for the lessons we are taught by the ones who are fewest in number and greatest in service among us, for in their example our world finds continued reason to hope, to dream, to pray.

This day I stand at the back door of the house with them and pray for the sun to shine and the ground to dry. It is all in God's time, I'm sure, but there is much to learn in standing in solidarity with the ones whose steadfast love feeds the world. Thank you, my farming family, for allowing me to stand with you in the hard times, and may the good times for which we pray be made better by the unity we practice today.

Your servant in Christ,

Pastor Don

Church Sign for the Week:

OIL COMPANIES GOT YOU

BY THE GAS? KICK THEIR

CAN, SHARE THE JOURNEY.

The Wind Blows Where It Chooses

A cold weather front is moving through and the speed of the wind has increased. Actually, it is fairly howling from the Northwest at a steady 25 to 30 miles per hour, with gusts well into the 40 mile per hour range which, for this Midwesterner, is fairly disconcerting. What happened to our Springtime breezes from the Southwest? Our balmy Southerly wisps of heat and vitality to dry the ground and put everyone in the mood for farming and gardening? Pulling my long coat back out of the closet I wonder what happened to walking across the street to the office in shirt sleeves. Lord knows that I only had the opportunity to do it once or twice so far this year but, God, it seems that we should be doing it every day, right?! Instead, the Northwest wind blows and the temperature drops. Snow flurries are in the forecast for tomorrow morning. What has happened to the way things should have been in early April?

Jesus says to Nicodemus, "The wind blows where it chooses, and you hear the sound of it, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes. So it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit." (John 3.8 NRSV) God no more owes humanity an explanation for why God does what God does than the wind owes us an explanation of why it blows the way it blows. God chooses to birth new life in humanity through the power and presence of God's own Holy Spirit and that is the end of the conversation. Period. It is a gift of God, God's choice, God's own option. It is how one comes to spiritual re-birthing. Kind of like the wind, it blows from the Southwest one day, pointing all the leaves on the trees to the Northeast, then it blows from the Northwest the next day, pointing all the leaves on the trees to the Southeast. You hear the sound of it, you feel the rush of the wind upon your cheek, you discern the wind cooling or heating the air around you, but you do not know from whence it came or to where it is going, only that it is, in that moment, all around you. So it is with God's Holy Spirit - and you can either receive it and relish in the wonder of the life it gives or you can go back inside your life and slam the door so that neither the wind, nor the Spirit, will ever touch you again.

That is your choice: to receive the gift or turn away from it, to savor the breath of God's wind upon your life and laugh in its splendor or stand there stuck in the notion that 'unless you can figure it out personally, you won't believe it is happening the way it seems.' God has already decided what God is going to do and how God is going to do it: New life in the Spirit is offered to all who receive it. Now, what are you going to do?

I think I am going to shut down this computer and go outside and stand in the wind for a while. Suddenly, the breeze seems more a friend and a freedom. Who knows, I might even let my imagination wander with the currents of God's Spirit directing my life in a whole way. I'll trust it all to the winds of the Spirit.

Your servant in Christ,

Pastor Don

He Started by Digging Sewer Trenches by Hand

"He learned the business of plumbing and heating/cooling the hard way, he started by digging sewer trenches by hand." Those were the words the family of Gene Gray used in fondly remembering their husband and father as we, together, prepared to celebrate, his life. Those words caught me and held my attention for a long, long time in the simple truth they conveyed: Gene never thought himself 'entitled' to anything and was willing to work for everything.

It is the mindset of, as Tom Brokaw names it, "The Greatest Generation". Nothing is ours to claim or own just because we live somewhere, have a particular color of skin, have certain birth parents, or belong to a particular religious group. We are all members of the human family, equal inheritors of God's grace and vision, and each have the responsibility to work hard enough and for the benefit of the whole, so as to leave the world in better shape than when we came into it. Certainly, being born in the United States is, in and of itself, a huge gift, even for the generation who lived through the Depression and WWII, Korea, Viet Nam, and the whole host of other wars and police actions which are now a part of our collective history. Yet, I am reminded, neither is it a guarantee. In some places, in some peoples, there are those who wait, still, for that 'benefit' to kick in, banking on their entitlement check to save them from themselves.

Not for Gene. He learned the trade on the handle of a tile spade digging sewer lines, long before all the new fangled machinery there is today ever was available to the small local contractors. Gene worked, and by his work, a little luck, a lot of humor, and even more faith, he accomplished a living which provided that his children would be able to go to school, to college, get their degrees, and find jobs that would put them in the position of never having to dig sewer ditches again, unless they chose to dig those ditches. And, while he worked, he read and he wrote. Gene could quote Thanatopsis by William Cullen Bryant and Canterbury Tales by Chaucer. He was well acquainted with the work of Edgar Allen Poe and equally versed in the books of the Bible. He was a well-skilled sheet metal worker by day and an accomplished author in his own right in his spare time. He built five homes, including 'well-cussed cabinets', and established his family in the midst of a growing community. He savored his service in the Army in Korea and his friendships with those he met in the coffee shops . . . and it all found meaning in the handle of a shovel digging sewer lines to learn a vocation.

One might argue that today's generation, X, O, or whatever it is currently being called by the experts, might be well served starting their lives from a similar place. There is something about shaking hands with those whose calloused fingers rub coarsely across your own, yet, like Gene, their hard work and diligence was so others after them wouldn't have to work as hard. Still, in the work is value. In the value, lessons. In the lessons, humility. In the humility, community. Maybe that is why Jesus calls us to be servants to others, not the ones expecting to be served. He understood the lessons of having dirt under your fingernails and sore arms from carpentry work lingering long into the night after the project was done: it reminds you of how precious the work is and how important each step is along the way that none of them need be repeated because they weren't done well in the first place. Hmmmmmm.

It is certainly something to ponder as we listen to the voices of the current age tell us how much they deserve from the government, and how much they deserve from the school systems, and how much they deserve to be in management, and how much they deserve shorter hours of work, and how much they deserve higher levels of pay, and how much they are undervalued by big business, and how much they are oppressed by . . . . well, you get the idea. Maybe, there is one more lesson 'the life being celebrated' has to teach along the way: Everything, even hard work, is a gift. The value of the gift is the heart of the Giver, all we need do is use it and we will learn its power.

Your servant in Christ,

Pastor Don

Missed Days

I haven't written for two days, and missed a couple of days last week. Such has been the 'busy-ness' of pastoral life in these days. Easter Sunday was to be the transition point from a hectic Lenten calendar to a more relaxed Easter Season schedule, but the days are flying by like wispy clouds in a Springtime breeze and, judging by the way events and expectations are piling up on my planner, it is not going to get better soon. Days off and time spent writing have become a nearly non-existent commodity in the face of constantly being 'on', being involved in church and community, and trying to stay up with the lives of folks who mean so much. It makes me wonder how Jesus balanced it.

In His ministry, thousands followed Him. Many more would crowd in upon Him, trying simply to touch the hem of His garment. Others cried out to Him from the side of the road. A few climbed trees hoping to be able to see Him. In the midst of it all, Jesus took time: Time for those who called out to Him; Time for those with whom He journeyed; and, time for Himself. Jesus went to places away . . . a garden, up a mountain, in a boat . . . and He allowed Himself the time and space to be renewed, to be lifted up as on wings of angels, if you will. He so desired to fully serve God's will that He cared for Himself along the way. Jesus understood the importance of balance in ministry far better than most folks in ministry today.

Sometimes our 'good old German work ethic' overshadows the wisdom of God and God's desire that our lives be full and rich in the ministries to which we are called. What good is our exhaustion if the only thing being exhausted is our own ego-driven need to be needed? Is there a message of Good News to be proclaimed to the world in stopping along the path of life to breathe in the Goodness of God? Is there a Gospel to be celebrated in receiving directly of God's delightful imagination in tending to one's own spiritual journey and needs along the way? Is there a witness to be made in saying 'No' when asked to do 'just one more thing'? Is there a truth which needs to be discerned between living a life with meaning and just living life?

Christ Himself is our Good News. Jesus is the Gospel of God among us. He is the the Witness of all that God intends. The question is not, 'Are we willing to be disciples of the Living Christ as we walk this way on earth?' but, rather, 'As disciples, are we willing to live as Jesus has modeled life and service on His ministry on this earth?' The difference between the two is the difference, I think, between life and death, between Life in God's Kingdom and death to this world's many self-indulgent gods which seek simply to wear you out.

Take a moment or two to step back and breathe, to write, to sing, to celebrate life. It is God's gift to you in all you are called to be in ministry, for, were that not true, Jesus would not have shown us the way. In God's Spirit we are given life. In Christ, we are given new life. Don't squander the gift, let Him lead the way.

"I am the way, and the truth, and the life."

John 14.6a

Your servant in Christ,

Pastor Don

The Blessings of a New Day

It is a cardinal song morning, with blooming daffodils and budding roses. It is a yellow finch sunrise, with bluebell blossoms and crocus smiles. It is a Sabbath morning, with hymns of praise raising to the heavens and prayers for the Spirit filling the journey. This is the day which the Lord has made, let us rejoice and be glad in it!

This morning, I am counting my blessings in the joy of a bright Spring birthing. The sounds, the sights, and the smells of life emerging into newness is nearly overwhelming. The joy of heaven and earth anticipating creation's newest revelations gathers even the most casual of observers into the Spirit of the day and the wonder of the One who gives it.

God's grace gather you in this Easter Season journey with Jesus and, like the men who found themselves walking with the Risen Christ on the road to Emmaus, my you, too, feel your heart burn within you for joy as you talk with the One who knows you by name and comes to claim your life.

Your servant in Christ,

Pastor Don

Sign for the Week:

TIME SPENT BEING

CHRISTIAN IS TIME NOT

SPENT TRYING TO BE GOD

Sabbath Economics

'Sabbath Economics': " . . . the conviction that God's creation is abundant, and that there is enough for all - if we live within the limits of our needs instead of by our cravings." [Sabbath Economics: Household Practices by Matthew Colwell, p. 5; Tell the Word, September 2007]

I just started reading this book in preparation for a gathering of rural pastors of which I am a part. In many ways, it is a companion text to Ched Myers's The Biblical Vision of Sabbath Economics which, too, is an excellent read and a great study book for people seriously considering their place in the faith and world communities. As I read Colwell's opening statement and pondered its significance for my faith journey, I was struck by how incredibly raw and tearing those words are in our culture and in my living. Are we convicted that God's creation is abundant enough for everyone? Or, are we convicted that God could never possibly provide enough for everyone, therefore we have to accumulate enough of everything that we never have to face our own mortality? (Even if it is at the expense of another's mortality?)

I am reminded of the bumper sticker: "He who has the most when he dies, wins. But, he still dies."

I have not read the entire book, so this is a work in progress, yet even in the first sentences of his writing, Colwell challenges me to ponder what it is that I 'need'. 'Need', not want. Need. I have officiated so many Celebrations of Life (otherwise known as funerals) where the survivors are fighting over the things a person has accumulated, oft reflecting their own sense of not ever being able to accumulate enough, while sacrificing a legacy of generosity in the deceased's own life for burial with the coffin. While it proves genetics cannot guarantee an abundant spirit in the face of death, it is incredibly clear that, in the face of life, lessons taught on an abundant sense of connection to God and a theology of 'plenty enough' for all can make all the difference in what our children hold as dear.

I have watched people argue vehemently over jewelry owned by their mother, then, with smiles so sweet it would gag a maggot, offer their mother's lifelong Bible to the church as 'something for the library.' I have listened to siblings tell long and detailed stories of growing up on the farm and relate how blessed they all were to share childhood stories of connection to the land and, in the next breath, threaten to file a lawsuit if the land wasn't put up for auction to get the highest price available to be split up as their legacy. I have watched widows weep over estranged children who couldn't wait for her to die to get 'what they had coming', and have prayed with children whose parents used their holdings, however large or meager, to coax their children's affections and attention, often playing one against another.

How much do I need? And, for what?

I believe in a God of absolute abundance. I also believe that the world community question has never been, 'Is there enough?' More accurately, the question is, 'How is the abundance shared?' A capitalist culture does not celebrate abundance, but relishes in creating shortages by increasing demand beyond available supply. A sabbath culture celebrates abundance and relishes opportunities for everyone to have enough from the supply at hand. It is a faith thing. Where there is no faith in anything beyond one's own capacity to provide the necessary goods and services needed to exist, and exist comfortably, there is only the need to accumulate, accumulate, and accumulate some more, praying to the god of accumulation that, when all is said and done, one will have enough not to have to accumulate some more at another time . . . a time which never seems to arrive.

Yet, where there is faith in One who provides enough for all to live abundantly, then the driving need of the individual is to practice the same radical generosity on earth as it is experienced in heaven. So, I am back to the question asked in the beginning, 'What do I need?'

For today, more than all other things, I need the steadfast love of God to wash my soul in healing and strength. I need the faith God has in me to become, more and more, the faith I have in God as I share this journey with others who are God's children. I need the love of family and the support of friends. I need to live God's call in my life to the best of my ability. I need God's Holy Spirit guiding my steps, and I pray the Holy Spirit keeps the steps of my wife, children and grandchildren, as well. I need to share the Good News of Jesus Christ with every fiber of my being - and I need to continually respond to that Good News by living as though the stone of the tomb was rolled away before my very eyes. I need all this to sustain my spirit for the ministry to which I am called for, more than anything else, I want to hear His voice say to me, "Well done, thou good and faithful servant."

Colwell accurately observes that, ". . . if we live within the limits of our needs instead of our cravings . . ." we will experience Sabbath economics. At least for me, if I am able to live within the limits of my needs in God, all other cravings will find their rest - and Sabbath will be the very economics by which my living is ordered and God's peace will find root. For such a Sabbath I live and such is my prayer for you.

Your servant in Christ,

Pastor Don

Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.: Ponderings on This Day

Forty years ago today, April 4, 2008, the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. was assassinated and, in the American press, there is a great deal of remembering and rededicating going on. Rev. Al Sharpton and Rev. Jesse Jackson are making the media rounds of interviews and sound bytes, as other prominent folks remember where they were when they heard, what they saw transpire as the American public became aware, and how their lives have been affected by his legacy.

Today, I am celebrating the life and legacy of Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. but, I suspect, I am doing it in a far different manner. I have an inherent cynicism regarding the folks who manage always to 'find themselves in front of a camera', that they might become the voice of the movement or the memory of the one being remembered. So, I choose to celebrate the life and legacy of Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. by continuing his work as a disciple of Jesus Christ among the unseen, the unheard, and unregarded of God's children among us. Certainly Rev. Dr. King's work was predominantly among and for the African-American community of his time, but if his work is remembered today as only being for the equality and equity of the African-American community, then we disrespect and dishonor the very message he sought to embody in his discipleship to Christ.

It was because of his color, his experiences growing up, and his challenges as a young man of faith in a predominantly 'white' governed world that the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. developed the skill and message necessary to address the powers and principalities of his time on behalf of all God's children. His was the voice of religious conscience speaking in the midst of a faith community that had long before found it easier to disregard the very essence of their baptismal identity as equal children in God's kingdom than to speak up for the marginalized. His was the voice from the depths of humanity pointing out how much easier it was to enjoy the fruit of the land when privileged enough to have the trees of a good education, adequate health care, appropriate housing, and equal access to the work force, growing in your own yard, rather than tear down the fences that keep others out and share the wealth that all might have enough.

Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. was the voice of radical inclusivity long before inclusiveness was kosher. His was the voice of one " . . . crying out in the wilderness, Prepare ye the way of the Lord" among those who were, and in some cases remain, the brood of vipers among us in the faith. His was the voice of the lepers, the blind, the lame, the widow and the orphan, along the path that Jesus walked, for they were the only ones who recognized Jesus for who He was and called upon Him for healing and cleansing: the very things which would allow them to return to community, rather than stand outside of it. His was the voice of prophets, calling God's people to accountability for taking advantage of the weak and vulnerable that their own coffers would be increased upon the backs of those least able to defend themselves. His was the voice of generations of people crying out for justice, not for advantage, for justice, acknowledging that until there is justice and equity, there can never be peace. God's will in Christ will be done, and so Rev. Dr. King spoke, adding his voice to the voices of those who dared to stand in God's Holy Spirit before him, articulating the faith which is ours to claim in the Holy Spirit.

To remember with integrity Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. is not to seek out a camera for publicity, it is to stand with Jesus next to the blind man at the side of the road, it is to articulate justice for the woman accused of adultery, it is to call the lepers to Him and cleanse them, it is to rededicate ourselves to the mission and ministry of Jesus Christ in this generation and space. To rededicate ourselves to the ministry of Rev. Dr. King is to miss the point. Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. was called, ordained, and sent to proclaim the coming Kingdom of God as a servant of Jesus Christ. So, too, are we today.

Therefore, I will honor with the greatest of humility and servitude the memory of this day, the 40th anniversary of the assassination of Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. by rededicating myself to the mission and ministry of Jesus Christ on behalf of all God's people. Because, until all God's people have a place at the Table of grace and mercy, until all God's people have equity and justice " . . . on earth as it is in heaven . . .", until all God's people have a share in God's generous abundance for humankind, regardless of race, color, ethnicity, economic level, geography, gender, or background . . . . until such a time, Christ's ministry goes on and God will continue to call forth servants of the faith like Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. who do not shrink back from their sacramental birthing, but go forth in the strength and conviction of the Holy Spirit.

Such living celebrates his life and legacy with honor, for it confirms in the current age the conviction of Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr's. soul and ministry in his age: Jesus Christ is Lord. Our call is to live that truth with power and devotion. So Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. lived and died, so may we live and die, that in the final roll call our names would be found worthy to be spoken on His lips.

Your servant in Christ,

Pastor Don

The Thomas In Us All

Driving between hospitals today has given me an opportunity to think some more on Jesus' disciple, Thomas. The Gospel text for Sunday, March 30, 2008 was the story of Thomas' doubt and Jesus' presence in the midst of his doubt (John 20:19-31). I cannot tell you how many times over the course of my ministry I have been blessed to preach that text, but I can tell you that every time I have preached it, the sermon has been less about Thomas' doubt and more about our doubt today.

It is easy to tag Thomas with the moniker of 'Doubter', just as it is easy (some 2000 years removed from the event) to say, 'He should have believed', but none of us were there. None of us saw it happen. Why the Gospel of John includes this story and none of the other Gospels do has been speculated upon in a variety of ways throughout church history, but that it does include it requires folks of every age, not only to look at Thomas through the eyes of the Gospel writer(s) but also, to see him through Jesus' eyes.

Don't ever forget that, when Jesus first stood in the room and said to the ten disciples present, "Peace be with you", He showed them His hands and side before they rejoiced that it was Him. None of the disciples are credited with having believed without seeing, in fact, none of them have the opportunity, except for Thomas. Thomas is the only one who is noted as not being in the room when Jesus first appears to the others and, upon Thomas' return sometime later, he responds as the others had, though it is never mentioned: He needs to see.

Before God's Peace in Christ can be with us, we need to see. Jesus says to Thomas and, by extension, to all of us: "Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe", yet, few, if any, can claim that distinction, so hard is it to accomplish. Most of us come to faith much like Thomas, we need to have the Resurrected Christ personally proven to us. We cry out for evidence, proof that the wounds exist for our redemption and, like Thomas, when confronted by the sight, we never have to put our fingers into the nail marks or our hand into His side. We come to some measure of belief, crying out in shame for our unbelief and wondering if we can ever be forgiven our human inadequacy. Yet, just as it is for our unbelief that Jesus was crucified, so it is for our unbelief that Jesus is willing to stand with us in whatever room it is in which we choose to hide ourselves away.

Our unbelief cannot be secreted away from God. "For faith Christ has set us free . . . " says the Apostle Paul, fully knowing that such freedom comes at a very high price and must continually be shown and proven to each succeeding generation. Just as with the Gnostic community to which the Gospel of John is directed, the value for academic understanding today is so high among us that God's Wisdom completely alludes the folly of our searching. We miss the point when we dump on Thomas: God understands us in our doubts and for that very reason, in Christ, is willing always to stand with us wherever we are. For this the Church was, and continues to be, birthed: To be the present Body of Christ standing in those locked-away places with everyone who cries out in unbelief to 'see' the wounds and be washed in the grace of His care. And, in such times and places, when the faith is lived and embodied in the power of the Holy Spirit, Christ's Peace is with us, Christ's Peace fills us, Christ's Peace heals us. The Peace of Christ is not about not doubting, it is about God's assurance that in our every doubt, Christ is present with us, in us, for us, to us, freeing us to live a faithful witness in the generation with which we travel.

"Peace be with you." After this he showed them his hands and his side. Then the disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord. Jesus said to them again, "Peace be with you."

In the midst of your doubts, don't worry about being like Thomas, pray that, like Thomas, the Presence of Christ enfolds your unbelief with the compassionate presence of persistent Love that knows no end.

Your servant in Christ,

Pastor Don

April Fool's Day

Thirty-six hours of non-stop flood control in our basement has given me an appreciation for April Fool's Day. Just when you think you are in control, just when you think you have everything in order and all systems are functioning, just when you think every contingency is anticipated and all the bases are covered, along comes 5 1/2 inches of rain, then another 2 inches of rain and, after about a three day reprieve, another 1 1/2 inches of rain, followed the next day by 2 1/2 inches of rain . . . then what you have, my friends, is April Fool's Day, or to put it more appropriately, April Fool's Day has you.

I confess it, I was so ready for the rains of March to be behind us I found myself wishing for April: Wishing for daffodils and crocus'; Wishing for warm drying days and white wispy clouds; Wishing for budding trees and farming work to begin; Wishing for whatever was over the rainbow that wasn't faintly connected to the miserable slogging of wet/dry vacuums running around the clock trying to suck the musty stench of ground borne water out of our home. I so wished for it, it came . . . and that, I think is one oft overlooked meaning in the day: We so wish to be beyond March, we become fools and wish our life away. Ironically, April arrives whether we are ready for it or not. Wishing March away, simply because of the rains, is comparable to wishing Easter away because of the darkness of the morning: either way, someone will be surprised to learn, it takes one to fully explain the other.

It takes March rains (and all of the accompanying problems) to set the stage for April wonder, even as it takes the darkness of Saturday night to set the stage for Easter morning majesty. Wishing for one at the expense of the other only diminishes the outcome of both. Unmitigated joy is sacrificed on the altar of the mundane and, as often as not, we end up receiving exactly what we pray for: a 'ho-hum' existence bereft of either rain or resurrection. April Fool's Day has become for me, this year, as much an indictment of my own tiredness of dealing with rain as it is a reminder that, too often, we approach the goodness of God with similarly weary eyes barely able to see the good for all of our 'self' that we put in God's way.

So, I will savor this day, April Fool's Day, and regard it as the gift God intended. Truth be told, God's April Fool's Day joke is on us anyway: I suspect it will rain in April, too. Ah, well, so be it. Maybe with a good night's sleep, the darkness of the pre-Easter season morning will give way to the "Wow!" of a bright new day in Resurrection Joy, as well. I pray so for us all.

Your servant in Christ,

Pastor Don